


Good Soldiers

by manic_intent



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, That AU where Gabriel is Strike-Commander of Overwatch, and Jack is Commander of Blackwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “We could put the word out,” Jack said slowly, though he knew how that would go. Ana was already grimacing. If they were outside, she probably would’ve spat in the dust. “Like to see you get that past the CO.” “I’ll talk to him,” Jack began automatically, then paused. “You talk to him. You’re second in command of Overwatch.” “He’s never listened to me and you know it.” Ana tugged at her beret, adjusting it, a nervous habit. Her coat was a muddy brown at the hem, worn loose over her combat suit, her rifle slung over her back. Her thick dark hair, worn loose over her shoulders, was gray with dust, and she looked exhausted. Operation Eidolon was only in its third day, but it was starting to take its toll.“Get some shut eye,” Jack told her. “I’ll talk to Gabe.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Good Soldiers 优秀士兵 By manic_intent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793187) by [batcat229](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batcat229/pseuds/batcat229)



> my big bang artist was http://ukenceto.tumblr.com/ :D her companion piece is here: http://ukenceto.tumblr.com/post/154725463854/my-companion-piece-for-good-soldiers-by . Enjoy the fic!

Jack

The children sitting quietly in the corner of the Red Cross triage tent wore million-yard stares decades too old for their years, indifferent to the fuss. Ana murmured a few final words to them before straightening up and leaving them to a volunteer nurse. When she got to Jack’s side at the mouth of the tent, she was grim.

“Their schoolteacher didn’t make it. Not sure what happened to the parents. Think they’re still at work, one of the Red Cross people might know. My Somali’s non-existent and they only know basic Arabic.” 

Jack blew out a sigh, shading his eyes. The fragile peace that the UN had finally brokered in Somalia a decade ago had shattered completely when the omnics had rebelled. The omnium two miles out from Mogadishu with its beautiful prefab town, once touted as the most technologically advanced township this side of Africa, was now a no-go zone. Half of Mogadishu was still smoking, belching thick oily plumes into the unforgiving heat of the afternoon. The Red Cross had hunkered down in what was left of Hormuud Telecom’s headquarters. Offices had been turned into clinics and wards, and the gleaming reception was thick with dust. The stench was intense.

“We could put the word out,” Jack said slowly, though he knew how that would go. Ana was already grimacing. If they were outside, she probably would’ve spat in the dust. 

“Like to see you get that past the CO.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” Jack began automatically, then paused. “ _You_ talk to him. You’re second in command of Overwatch.” 

“He’s never listened to me and you know it.” Ana tugged at her beret, adjusting it, a nervous habit. Her coat was a muddy brown at the hem, worn loose over her combat suit, her rifle slung over her back. Her thick dark hair, worn loose over her shoulders, was gray with dust, and she looked exhausted. Operation Eidolon was only in its third day, but it was starting to take its toll.

“Get some shut eye,” Jack told her. “I’ll talk to Gabe.” 

“ _You_ get some shut eye, _sir_ ,” Ana said, and smirked when he pulled a face at her.

Stepping outside was like being slung into a microwave. Technically, it wasn’t even _that_ hot in the evening: only a little over the mid 80s—but it was stiflingly humid, and the Blackwatch recon gear didn’t help. Made to be lightweight his _ass_. Jack was sweating under it by the time he got to the command bunker. FOB Mogadishu was still under rapid construction: Torbjörn’s barrier fields were up, ringing the walled off part of the district in flat planes of glassy blue, and his turrets sat on lookout, elevated on temp posts. 

Reinhardt nodded at Jack as he entered the command bunker. The big German man was hunched into a corner, red-faced, sweating and glum. Someone had set up a bare bones cooling system, and Jack stood under a vent as he took stock. FOBs hadn’t changed much in a century. Hescoes were still stacked two up around the prefab bunker: thick sack-like collapsible mesh units filled with gravel as a buffer against mortar and small arms fire. With most of the surviving buildings in the FOB commandeered for the Red Cross or for the barracks, the command bunker was a temp structure, a hump of concrete canvas. A holodeck took up most of the ground space, mapping out Mogadishu and the surrounding area around the omnium, much of it tinted in red. 

Beside the deck, Gabriel was arguing in a low growl with a holovid of the UN Secretary, lips curled to bare his teeth. Dr. Amelia Huang stood her ground, arms akimbo, mouth fiercely pursed: a tiny, graying lady brilliantly dressed in a turquoise pants suit. She glanced over at Jack as he approached with as placating a smile as he could muster, and sniffed. 

“Finally. Someone with some sense.”

At her shoulder, Gabriel rolled his eyes. He’d never had much patience for the brass. “That’s right, Jack,” Gabriel said acidly. “Talk some _sense_ into the good Doctor, would’ya?” 

“Catch me up,” Jack suggested carefully. The warning signs were all there: the twitchy tension in Gabriel’s shoulders, that combative, give-me-a-reason gash of a smirk. 

“Doctor Huang wants to know why we haven’t ground the omnium beneath our heel and brought peace and goodwill to all the land,” Gabriel growled. 

“It hasn’t even been a week.” Jack blinked, surprised. 

“ _Exactly_ ,” Gabriel and Huang snapped at the same time, then glared at each other like a pair of cats squaring off. 

“Whoah, whoah,” Jack raised his hands, palms up. “I’m guessin’ the Somali government got impatient?” 

“That’s one way to put it,” Huang said sourly. “Can’t blame them. The civilian casualty count is in the _thousands_. Mogadishu’s still on fire.” 

“We only retook the city this morning,” Gabriel muttered. This got him a glare from Huang, but he met her stare evenly. 

“An Overwatch strike op _usually_ only takes hours. A day, tops,” Huang pointed out. 

“Omnics got smart. They dug in. They’re enforcing a no-go zone with mortars. Set up a no _fly_ zone, too. Only reason why Red Cross could even set up triage in Mogadishu this mornin’ is because we took out their ack-ack… er… anti-aircraft guns in the city,” Jack said reasonably. “Adisatown’s still a work in progress. With anti-aircraft in place, not even Tracer could’ve dropped a Blackwatch team in close enough for a surgical strike.” 

“Could’ve told me that,” Huang informed Gabriel tartly. 

“I _told_ you the situation’s still kinetic,” Gabriel shot back. 

“And what the hell would that have meant to me? Right. I’ll go put out some fires here in Geneva. Hopefully, the situation will all be resolved _very soon_ , yes?” 

“We’ll see,” Gabriel said flatly.

“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Jack said reassuringly. 

“Now that’s what I want to hear,” Huang told Gabriel. 

“Just telling you as it is. _Ma’am_.” Gabriel’s tone had turned frosty. Huang sniffed again, and the holovid dematerialised. 

“You shouldn’t keep pissing her off,” Jack said mildly.

“Don’t _you_ start.”

“She pushed real hard for your promotion.” 

“Only ‘cos I saved her ass in Libya. Otherwise Heighman would’ve been made Secretary, and he sure has interesting views about brown people in high command.” 

Gabriel had turned back to the holodeck, scowling at the red-marked areas. The brilliant blue Strike Commander uniform suited him: body armour plated close over his sleek frame, those sloped hips, those _thighs_. Gabriel did look oddly unfinished, somehow, without his beanie, his sole concession to the heat. He’d buzzed his hair down before the op to a military-style crew cut, probably for appearances. Not that it mattered. Man was still seven kinds of handsome, even when ticked off. 

“We’ve talked about Heighman,” Jack said patiently. Huang’s second-in-command was an acerbic man at the best of times, but Gabriel always seemed to have taken that personally. In Jack’s opinion. 

“Oh yeah. Not enough. Fact is, Amari’s just as qualified to be wearing this uniform as either of us. But she’s brown _and_ female. One more strike out of the running, ‘least where Heighman’s concerned.” Gabriel shook his head in disgust. “So. What d’you want?”

“Need to get your go-ahead for a quick op. Package retrieval.”

“This isn’t about finding the parents of those two kiddies Amari’s attached herself to, is it? She damned near chewed my ear off about them, just half an hour back.”

Busted. “They lived in the second district out. Shouldn’t be far, and the omnic presence in Old Mogadishu’s receded to a code gray.” 

“You know,” Gabriel said dryly, “a _normal_ person would’ve at least fed me a decent lie to cover for an idea that dumb. Code gray? You wish.”

“You laugh when I try to lie.”

“At least _something_ would’ve made me laugh today.” Gabriel rubbed a hand slowly over his face. “Fine. Kit up. Let’s move out.”

Thrown, Jack gawped a little. “Wait, what?” 

“If we don’t, you’re gonna bitch at me for an hour, and I’m in no mood for that. ‘Sides, I need to shoot something right now. So let’s _go_.” Gabriel was already walking briskly towards the door. “Not you, Reinhardt.”

“But—“ Reinhardt began, frozen in mid-step. 

“Easy in, easy out. You’re real recognisable. And I need someone here to cover for me, in case that harpy rings back.” 

“I don’t know, Gabe,” Jack said, trying to hide a grin. “What if something happens? That’s both COs of Blackwatch and Overwatch, gone.” 

“True.” Gabriel turned to Reinhardt. “If that happens, tell Huang that I personally and strongly recommend Ana Amari to the position of Strike-Commander. Heighman’s face will keep me warm in hell. _Dismissed_.”

Gabriel

Old Mogadishu’s Shangaani district was once a patchwork of modern glass buildings interspersed between the few remaining protected heritage monuments. Now it was mostly rubble. The omnics had cleared and used a forgotten old tunnel to surface a strike team into the city through one of the mosques, taking defenders by surprise. Forcibly deactivated Bastion units lay shattered on the streets, left where they had fallen. With recovery efforts still in their early stages, bodies were starting to spoil in the heat.

As they passed what was once a post office, caved through the roof, there was an awful sound of buzzing from within. Thousands of flies, waking to a feast. Gabriel turned away, his jaw clenched tight. Death never got easier to face. 

“The Red Cross said Mohammed’s and Fadumo’s parents were probably working in their grocery store in Shangaani when the omnics attacked,” Jack murmured, tabbing through a map on his wristdeck. “The kids were in a school which had an old Civil War era air raid shelter underneath. The teachers locked everyone down in there until Overwatch arrived, after which they decided to make a run for the FOB. With civvie comms cut across the country, nobody knows what happened to anyone else.” 

Gabriel nodded. He was feeling better about the whole situation. Leaving the FOB with only a word to Reinhardt had been fairly stupid, he had to admit, but it was either blow off some steam or pick an unlucky Overwatch cadidiot for target practice. Jack always got upset when he did that, even if Gabriel used BB shot. Not a humane use of the cadets, his _ass_. Kids nowadays needed more toughening up.

“I actually didn’t think that you were gonna okay the op,” Jack said, always like a puppy when he got his way, so guilelessly earnest. 

“Don’t make me regret it.” The dust-up with Huang had grated on Gabriel’s nerves. Jack grinned at him, unrepentant. “I needed some air,” Gabriel admitted.

“Funny way to get it, walking off-base with no backup.” 

“You want us to head back now? We can head back,” Gabriel told him, pretending to come to a pause. Jack laughed, curling a hand over his shoulder, sneaking a quick look around before leaning over to try and peck Gabriel on the cheek. Gabriel flinched away, smacking Jack off. “Keep it together, _Morrison_. We’re on the job. Act like a professional.” 

“Sorry, _sir_ ,” Jack said, with a wink, and Gabriel swallowed a sigh.

“Some kinda black ops soldier you are.” 

It was an old argument, and well-worn. Gabriel knew what Jack would say before he even said it. “Nobody else was up for the job, Commander.”

“God, don’t call me that in private.” 

Jack grinned at him. “Make your mind. Do you want me to ‘act professional’ or not?” 

“We both know that’s a fluke,” Gabriel muttered, in no mood to be playful. “I saw the report. Same as you did.” 

Mention of the Gibraltar Recommendations always made Jack sober up real quick. Sometimes, Gabriel even felt bad about it, but today wasn’t one of those days. “Gabe, we’ve been over this. You were hard on everyone during the Wars and rightfully so. I wasn’t, ‘cos we needed someone to keep morale up. Good cop, bad cop, right? Don’t blame yourself. You’re a great CO. Nobody disputes that.” 

“I’m just not the CO that my own team wanted.” That was still a sore point. 

“Not everyone—“

“We were close to knocking boots at that point. Pretty sure your opinion’s biased.” They reached the functional end of the street, the rest of it swallowed up in a hollowed out, still-smoking crater. Jack glanced at his wrist feed and gestured. They took a left down the remaining, intact side street, climbing over shelled-out civvie hovcars. 

“You’re too hard on yourself. The military’s never been a democracy, anyhow. Would’ve been pretty weird if they cut you loose at the last minute just on the basis of a personnel poll.”

“They nearly did.” Huang had told Gabriel that much, on one of the days when she’d been particularly exasperated. “Poll wasn’t the only issue. There were questions raised over the use of force in—” Gabriel cut himself off, holding up a palm. Something felt… wrong. The side street was opening up to a residential sector, judging from the partly-shattered plexglass balconies that built up in shiny tiers beyond the mouth of the street. Most of the buildings had survived the bombings fairly intact. But they were eerily quiet. 

Beside him, Jack scanned the area with his visor, then made the _all clear_ gesture. Gabriel frowned at him, looking back over at the empty sector. He pointed up at the intact roof of the building beside them, and Jack nodded, turning to the closest shuttered window and quietly splicing the lock. Gabriel waited, tense, as Jack eventually climbed through into the gloom, his Blackwatch suit going dark, his visor compensating for low-vis. Second floor. Third. Gabriel absently concentrated on his breathing. In and out. Jack was an old hand at this anywa—

“Shit!” Jack’s voice crackled over the comm. Gabriel was halfway through the window when Jack’s next breath stuttered into a laugh. “God _damn_ , Ana. You shaved a year off my _life_.” 

“Your idea of stealth is still terrible,” Ana said, patching into their comm. “And I can see you from up here, sir.” 

Gabriel pushed back and looked up, scowling, just in time to see Ana pull off a mock salute over the edge of the building. “The hell are you doing here?” 

“Reinhardt got worried.” 

Reinhardt was such a goddamned mother hen at the worst of times. “So this is… all of Blackwatch’s _and_ Overwatch’s high command, waiting for a stray mortar shell to strike. Outstanding.” 

“Didn’t seem right having the two of you go off on something _I_ put forward.” Ana ducked out of sight. “I’ve got you both covered. Why don’t you head back down, Jack?”

“You _could’ve_ said you were there earlier,” Jack muttered, though Gabriel could hear him getting back into a stairwell. 

“I’ve only just caught up. All clear. Something’s not right, though. The blocks are intact. Not everyone’s fled the city. There should still be survivors.”

#

The residential blocks were empty of the living. As was the parents’ grocery store. It was Jack who found the father’s body, further out in the back yard, sprawled against a set of autocooled crates as though enjoying the sun, his eyes and tongue black with flies. “Shit,” Gabriel muttered, glancing around. “There’s probably CCTV. Patch us up. Amari, keep eyes on high. The father didn’t make it.”

Amari muttered something under her breath, then cleared her throat. “Roger that, sir.”

The last day’s tape showed nothing when rewound at high speed, only shadows moving as the sun moved. They skipped a couple of days ahead, to Invasion Day. The parents appeared in the projection Jack cast on the nearest intact wall, nervously glancing outside as they hastily did business with the long lines of people stocking up to bunker down. “Play it at four-ex,” Gabriel told Jack. The video sped up.

So the parents had decided to open up shop even as war was declared. The Somali government had declared a state of emergency early on, but clearly hadn’t disseminated how serious it really was to the population. Didn’t want to start a panic, maybe. In the vid, the lines grew sparse as the blasts started, but the parents stayed. Afraid of their shop getting looted, maybe? 

“Why didn’t they go bunker down in the school?” Gabriel asked out aloud. 

“They would’ve been alive through the last civil war. Which has kinda been goin’ on and off since the 1980s.” 

“Business as usual?” Gabriel shook his head. Poor souls. In the fast-forwarded vid, people zipped back and forth. Outside, the situation was deteriorating quickly. The city was starting to catch fire. The parents were starting to close shop early when it happened. 

“There,” Jack pointed to a corner, slowing the vid back to normal play. “Emergence event.” A Bastion strike team, clanking into view, all orderly lines. People were screaming, scattering everywhere. Behind the counter of the grocery store, the parents were frozen in disbelief.

“ _PLEASE REMAIN CALM_.” The nearest Bastion unit was broadcasting. “ _ASSEMBLE IN AN ORDERLY LINE._ ”

“The fuck is that about?” Gabriel breathed, astonished. Usually, the omnics simply tried to gun down any living, breathing human in range, especially when trying to enforce a no-go zone. 

No one was listening. “ _ASSEMBLE IN AN ORDERLY LINE,_ ” the Bastion unit ordered again, then there was a faint whir, the sound of an gatling gun revving up. Jack looked away sharply, but Gabriel watched as a young woman was shot through the back, her body jerking back and forth for a second until she collapsed. Then their view of the street was blocked out by a Raider unit, its sleek, more humanoid body still nearly scraping the archway of the grocery store. 

The parents ran into the back, out of sight of the camera, and the Raider followed. There was the sound of a gunfire, a double-tap that made Jack flinch. Outside, the carnage had stopped. People were getting chivvied up into lines, corralled by Bastion units. Then the mother reappeared, her hands up, her body shaking with sobs, the Raider unit behind her, nudging her out to the street. 

“They corralled everybody,” Gabriel said out aloud, for Ana’s benefit. 

“I see that.” Ana was watching through her wrist feed too, then. “That’s a first.”

“Put it back to four-ex.” In the sped-up feed, the humans were eventually herded out of sight, leaving only the dead. “Amari, get HQ to patch you into satfeeds, see if you can pick out what happened to all these people. We need to find out where the civvies were taken, ASAP. Jack, you’re with me. Let’s check the other shops on the street.” 

There wasn’t much. The humans had been loaded into a Chinook, which had flown off in the direction of the omnics’ no-fly zone. Watching the replay off a florist’s CCTV, Gabriel leaned his shoulder beside a lattice of dust-choked plants and exhaled. In his earpiece, Ana was confirming the flightpath via satfeed, her voice tightly controlled. 

“They could still be alive,” Jack said, forever the optimist. “Omnics have never captured people before, and they do everything for a logical reason—”

“Machine logic ain’t human logic.” Gabriel ran a hand slowly over his face. “Right. We’re doing no good out here now. Amari, move out. We’re going back to HQ. I’m gonna have to break this to the Secretary.”

Jack

Jack was exhausted by the time he finally dragged himself out of his field office and towards his bunk in the temp barracks. On hindsight, deciding to bring the new Blackwatch kid along had been a bad idea after all. For all that McCree had grown up in one of the world’s most notorious syndicates, he was totally green where war zones were concerned, and the other Blackwatch agents weren’t known for their patience.

One perk of still being Commander of _something_ meant having a room to himself, and as he did the retinal scan and let himself in, Jack nearly sleepwalked his way right over Gabriel. 

“Shit,” Gabriel’s hands were warm and steady on his arms, stopping Jack from stumbling over his CO. “You look like death warmed over. Get a shower.”

“Why did we ever let ourselves get talked into high command?” Jack groused, then he paused. “The hell are you doing in here? Everything all right?”

“Just wanted some space to think for a while.” 

“You’ve got your own room,” Jack pointed out, though he started to grin. Gabriel looked away.

“Yeah, and everyone has a flexible idea of privacy when there’s a war going on. While you’ve been holed up with Blackwatch for hours.”

“Gordon and Hardy are going to try and sneak into the no-fly zone, take out their ack-ack. Noam and McCree are off to try and catch themselves a Raider unit.”

“Catch a _what_?”

“Torbjörn’s new devices. You saw the blueprints when he emailed them over a month ago, didn’t you? Parasitic SB’s, plug and play, they’ll let us patch in to the God Program’s network. Free recon. Don’t worry,” Jack added. “McCree’s just going to be running support as a spotter.” 

“Right.” Gabriel leaned further into his chair. “Shower. Go.” 

When Jack returned, still towelling off, Gabriel was at his comm deck, checking his messages. Jack raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind him. “I bet IT was the first to know about us. Since you keep logging in on my terminal,” he said, as lightly as he could. Gabriel’s shoulders were hunched down, tense. Bad news of some sort, maybe.

Gabriel answered with a noncommittal grunt. He sent off a quick response to a new message and stiffened up when Jack folded himself over his shoulders, admiring the way the khaki shirt Gabriel was wearing stretched precariously over moulded biceps. The supersoldier program had bulked them both up, but Gabriel always made it look so _good_ , with his usual air of controlled menace. A real, proper soldier. Someone he’d follow anywhere. Jack kissed Gabriel on the back of his head, over the beanie, and Gabriel batted absently at him, logging off. 

“Jack,” Gabriel began, only for Jack to twist over for a kiss, angled awkwardly. He felt amusement shake through Gabriel, then Jack got hauled into Gabriel’s lap, belatedly grabbing for the edge of the desk to keep his balance. The fold-up chair creaked alarmingly under their weight as Gabriel nosed down to Jack’s throat. Fingers curled into the hem of Jack’s fatigues, nudging against hip bones. Jack groaned, which got a laugh. “Someone’s wound up.” 

“Says the guy who snuck in here ‘cos he just ‘wanted some space to think’.” Jack closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Gabriel’s. He tried to relax, but it wouldn’t work. The mass kidnapping was still on the back of his mind. “D’you think they’re all okay?”

Gabriel’s fingers hesitated, then curled back up on his waist. Just as Jack was about to blame himself for accidentally killing the mood, Gabriel said gruffly, “You know the statistics. First 48 hours are key.”

“Human statistics.”

“It’s a fine day,” Gabriel said wryly, “when we’re starting to hope that robot kidnappers are less murderous than the human version.” 

“The omnics don’t do things out of cruelty. Concepts like that aren’t logical to them.” Jack kissed Gabriel’s cheek, then rested his own against one sloping, broad shoulder. “You’ve heard the interrogation tapes. In their opinion, this is _their_ emancipation fight. Their Civil War. The right not to be treated like property. These people didn’t do anythin’ to them.”

“Other than happen to live near a township with a rogue omnium?” Gabriel pointed out reproachfully. “I know you try and… understand the omnics. But I’ve told you before. Don’t say shit like that in public. Omnics aren’t human.” 

“They’re functionally self-aware, though. The Turing test’s got nothin’ on anythin’ of Bastion-level programming. Let alone one of the God Programs.” 

Gabriel shrugged. “So what? Was their choice to go violent right off the bat. Doesn’t make me sympathetic.” He stroked a palm up Jack’s back, warm and measured. “They’ve never tried to negotiate.”

Jack shook his head slowly. “They know our history—all the bits that got digitised, anyhow. Maybe it didn’t give them much confidence in us. Hell, it’s been well over a century since _our_ Civil War, and some shit still hasn’t changed. Even in the USA, we’ve still only had one black President, ever. Some parts of the rest of the world’s still got _gender_ issues, nevermind skin colour.” 

“You’re in a good mood,” Gabriel muttered, pushing lightly at Jack’s shoulders. Jack didn’t take the hint, nuzzling at Gabriel’s jaw, pressing playful, light kisses against Gabriel’s neck until the fingers curled over his shoulders slipped back down to his hips. This time, when they kissed, it was lazy and dirty and sharp with teeth, their breaths growing jagged between them.

“Jack,” Gabriel said, his voice pitched lower, then lower yet, melting into a rumbling growl as Jack grinned and slipped off his lap, kneeling on the ground between those gorgeous, powerful thighs. Gabriel laughed, murmuring something Jack couldn’t catch in Spanish, his thick fingers stroking lightly through Jack’s hair. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Gabriel told him, though his eyes were hungry, and his smile, wolfish. 

“I’m fully capable of being efficient, _sir_ ,” Jack shot back, all parade-ground crispness, and grinned when Gabriel rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. For all of that, though, Jack could see him swelling up nicely under his fatigues. Gabriel cursed as Jack leaned over to plant a kiss over the bulge, then he tugged warningly at Jack’s hair when Jack mouthed down teasingly. 

“Jack.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Jack said, though he chuckled as he said it, and reached over to work on Gabriel’s belt buckle. 

It never took Gabriel long to get fully up to speed. Once he got Gabriel’s cock free, he got it spit-slick, twitchy with impatience, breathing in deep. Jack loved being this close to Gabriel, loved the way those big, gun-roughened hands would press down over his cheeks before going to rest over his shoulders, loved the way Gabriel tended to clench up his teeth, breathing out groans in shredded gasps. 

Most of all, Jack loved taking Gabriel into his mouth. Just the tip, at first, to get the taste on his tongue, his not-so-guilty pleasure. Then the rest, whenever Gabriel started to curse and tug at his shoulders. Didn’t seem right, putting on a show unless the audience was riled for it. Today, that first breaking point came easily. “C’mon,” Gabriel growled. “C’mon.” 

Jack obeyed. He almost always did. Here in private, out in the field, something about _Gabriel Reyes_ always spoke to the animal part of him and made it do his bidding. Jack hollowed out his cheeks and fed himself more, as much as he could go, fought his gag reflex and flattened out a whimper as Gabriel cursed, hips twitching. Jack closed his eyes, concentrating. Breathing deeply. He had a free hand clenched up over Gabriel’s hips, tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises tomorrow; his other hand was curled over all the flesh he couldn’t take, squeezing tight. One of Gabriel’s hands went back up into his hair, curling over the back of his skull, waiting. Jack moaned in assent, and fingers twisted in his hair. 

“Jack,” Gabriel whispered, as he began to thrust up into Jack’s throat, careful, always so careful. “Godsdamn you, _Jack_ —”

Always a curse, always a prayer. Jack moaned, trying to relax his throat, trying to give Gabriel what he needed. He always tried. His own cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants. Gabriel was tense, wound tight—always the case, with a skirmish on the horizon. His thrusts started to fall out of rhythm, going desperate, his gasps going quieter and quieter, always in control. Jack preferred it that way. He couldn’t ever tell when Gabriel was close to the edge. He liked the surprise, the sudden burst of come in his mouth, the way Gabriel stiffened up all over, as though shocked by ecstasy.

Jack was still grinning smugly when he sat back, wiping his mouth. Gabriel rolled his eyes, catching his breath, and tugged him up for a bruising kiss, his hand groping down between them. No finesse needed. Jack was too close anyway. After a hasty cleanup, Jack sprawled on Gabriel’s lap, nuzzling his jaw, listening to their breaths sync up, slow down. Then Gabriel shoved lightly at his shoulders. 

“C’mon, off. Early start tomorrow. Assuming that your agents manage to find what we’re looking for.”

“You never had any kinda doubt?” Jack persisted, though he got off Gabriel’s lap. “About what we do?”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. He didn’t hesitate. “None. We’re soldiers, Jack. First and foremost. We’ve got a job to do. And right now, yeah, it involves hopefully reuniting some kiddies with their mom.” He pushed himself off the chair, brushing a kiss against Jack’s mouth. “Get some shut-eye. That’s an order.” 

Jack lay on the cot for a while afterwards, when he’d dimmed the lights to zero, hands folded over his chest. He’d known better than to ask Gabriel to stay, not with a morning op on the horizon. Conviction. That was what Gabriel had, fiercely, and sometimes, at all costs. Jack turned his face into the pillow, trying to block out the world. Some days, he was _real_ glad that promotion had worked out this way.

#

Someone, bless their soul, had cleared out a room and staked it out as the officer’s mess. Jack settled gratefully into the room with coffee and breakfast and briefing chits. As usual, he’d been the first up. Ana stumbled in when Jack had already worked through breakfast, red-eyed and grim, slouching into a chair.

Jack nodded at her cup. “Shouldn’t you eat somethin’?”

“You don’t get to mother me, I’m older than you,” Ana said halfheartedly, an old argument. “Relax. I had breakfast with the two kids. They’re doing better today.” 

“Told them about their dad?” 

Ana shook her head. “Not yet. I just want to focus on getting their mother back. Gordon find a way in?”

“Still working on it, I think. Noam bagged and tagged a Raider unit, though. Torbjörn’s working on the decryption.” Jack had been hoping for an update from Gordon, but logically, he knew that going to ground couldn’t be rushed. It didn’t make him any less antsy. Jack had never been in a black ops unit before, and going from a completely above-board op to Blackwatch had been a bit of a culture shock. Still gave him whiplash somedays, dealing with it. 

“How’s the boss?”

“Fine. Just need a bit of quiet time. The mass kidnapping shook him up. All those people goin’ missin’—”

“That shook _us_ up,” Ana corrected. “Reyes? Nah.”

“‘Course it did,” Jack frowned at her. “I know him.”

Ana sighed. “Jack. It’s pretty obvious to me—and Wilhelm, and the others—that you and Reyes are… close, all right? And that’s fine by us. But somedays, it gives you huge blind spot where he’s involved.”

“He’s a good soldier,” Jack said gruffly. 

“Too good. That’s the problem.” Ana seemed about to say more, but at that point, Gabriel keyed himself into the room, yawning, with coffee and food. He blinked as Ana excused herself. 

“Something come up?” Gabriel asked, once Ana was out of the room.

“Think she hasn’t forgiven you for turnin’ her out on her ass when she tried t’talk to you about the kids, that first time.”

Gabriel snorted. “She’ll get over it.” 

“Given we went out after the kids in the end anyway, you could’a just agreed to her request at the start.” 

This got Jack a raised eyebrow. “You questioning my orders?” 

It was too early in the morning for Jack to figure out whether Gabriel was teasing him. “No sir,” Jack replied evenly. 

Slowly, Gabriel set down his cup. “We’d just gotten the FOB up and running, Huang had lit a fire under my ass, and entire sectors are still Code Red. Couldn’t exactly spare any manpower to run around locating the parents of little kiddies, could we?” 

“And yet we did.” 

“Told you, I needed a walk.”

“You didn’t expect to find anythin’,” Jack guessed, after a pause. “Let alone somethin’ this weird.”

“That’s right. I thought any survivors would’ve long gone to ground or died trying,” Gabriel said bluntly. “City’s been under assault for _days_. Thought we’d do a loop around to keep Amari happy and me from using cadets as stress relief. Funny how things worked out.”

“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Funny.”

Gabriel exhaled loudly. “Is it _your_ turn to have a problem with me now?” 

“No! Not at all. Just.” Jack pinched at the bridge of his nose, counting to ten. “Let’s just focus on findin’ those people.” 

A big, warm hand closed over the fingers that he still had curled around his cup. “Jack,” Gabriel said softly, tense. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. Seriously. Gordon and Hardy haven’t reported in. They been radio silent since leavin’ base.”

“Ah.” Gabriel sat back. “Omnics track comms. They’ve probably gone dark on purpose.”

“I know that,” Jack muttered. 

“Stop worrying and trust them to do their job. They’re Blackwatch. Going off-grid is normal, when you’re fighting omnics. You know that.” 

“Yeah. Just. Still gettin’ used to it,” Jack said weakly, and managed a wan smile when Gabriel gently tugged his free hand over, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. God. They ended up kissing, Jack’s hands curled tight in Gabriel’s coat collar, balanced awkwardly against Gabriel’s lap, scrambling for intimacy. Against him, Gabriel’s familiar warmth was always so immovable. Each piece of stolen time, like this, seemed so fleeting. Soon, Gabriel was shoving playfully at him, twisting free. His CO again, not his lover. 

“Going to go another round with Huang,” Gabriel said, as Jack finished his coffee. “She wants some kinda shock-and-awe attack on the omnium. Glass the place once your men take out the ack-ack. I don’t have a problem with that strategy, but air strikes are a tricky way of dealing with God Programs—”

“ _Air strikes_? Still? Even with possible hostages?”

“Omnics don’t take hostages, Jack,” Gabriel pointed out. “Goes against everything we know about them.” 

“The civvies could still be alive. We can’t just assume that they’re not.”

“And we’re operating on the premise that there are survivors. But I’ve learned never to be optimistic about these situations.”

“Optimism is all that those two kids have,” Jack shot back. “So I wouldn’t knock it.” 

Gabriel met his stare, eloquently unimpressed, and seemed about to retort, then he shook his head wearily instead, and turned to his coffee. Somehow, that was worse.

Gabriel

Jack was in a Mood after the morning, but Gabriel had no patience for it. News about the civvies getting kidnapped had leaked, annoyingly enough, probably through the Red Cross volunteers, and the world’s media had caught on to it like starved terriers. Which meant, of course, that Huang spent an hour breathing down Gabriel’s neck over the entire sorry situation.

“Half a century ago,” Gabriel grumbled, “the US army had a better goddamned grasp of how information on the ground is supposed to work.” 

“Parcelling it out through propaganda segments?” Amari asked dryly. They were in a Thunderbird, hovering out of AA range, while Blackwatch was hopefully doing its work. 

“If you wanna take the ugly view of it, sure.”

Amari glanced over at him, her face carefully blank. “Over fifty years of war, and your country took in ten, twenty thousand refugees? _My_ country took half a million. Yes. I have an uglier view of war. One that is not American.”

“Getting pressured into forcing our hand ain’t how I like to do things. ‘American way’ or not.” 

“Omnics taking hostages is unprecedented.”

“Exactly why I’d rather have more recon on the ground, rather than rushing shit and maybe walking blind into a trap.”

“We _have_ recon on the ground. Blackwatch deployment.” 

“Oh, I know,” Gabriel muttered. It was still a sore point. Jack had decided to go with one of the recon teams deep-diving into the omnium town after Torbjörn’s decryption of the Raider unit. Despite Gabriel’s disapproval. Or maybe because of it. Fuck. Jack could be _so_ contrary when he was in a Mood. 

“You’re not in the American Army,” Amari said quietly. “You’re in _Overwatch_. We weren’t made to protect sovereign interests. Sir.”

“Not in the mood for another lecture, _Lieutenant_.”

“You’re getting one anyway, _sir_. We’re meant to be prioritising civilian extraction—”

“I heard Jack’s lecture loud and clear the first time,” Gabriel cut in bitingly. 

Amari narrowed her eyes for a moment, then she exhaled, and looked out of the Thunderbird again, hands clenched over her rifle. “You’re the best Commander I’ve ever served under, no question about that. You’ve got an impressive grasp of strategy, you’re not afraid to stake a place on the frontlines, you fight like a demon and you don’t leave anyone behind. But you’re a real piece of work, sir.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Gabriel said coldly. “Eyes on the prize, Lieutenant.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Sudden explosions belched fire and smoke into the air from fortified positions in omnic territory. After a few heartbeats, Jack’s voice crackled in over the comms. “That’s all of them, sir.”

“Good work.” Gabriel switched to the general broadcast. “Ack-ack’s down. Move! Move!” 

Under his feet, the Thunderbird’s engines roared, shaking the hull and deck as it shot forward, spearheading the Overwatch fleet. In the gunnery mount, the Overwatch sergeant swivelled his M60Z towards the omnic border. Below, in the now-empty town that sat around the omnium, omnics were swarming up to the roofs, opening fire. Gabriel clenched his hands tight on the edges of his bench as the Thunderbird tilted to evade. He tried to focus on his breathing. In, out. They were _not_ going to crash. Something holed the hull a hand’s breadth away from Gabriel’s shoulder, the whistle inaudible over the scream of the engines. Gabriel turned to shout at the pilot to prep for a live drop—just in time to see the gunnery sergeant slump down against the M60Z and slip off the edge, plummeting out of sight. 

“Amari!” Gabriel struggled with his buckles.

Amari swore something Gabriel couldn’t catch over the wind, scrambling to get free of her safety straps. Then she was swinging herself into the mount, teeth bared, opening fire as the Thunderbird banked close to a roof. Clearing a path. Even under fire, Gabriel was nakedly grateful once he was on solid ground, the Thunderbird lifting hastily off once he was clear. Taking cover behind a chimney stack, Gabriel breathed in. Out. Then he smiled to himself, guns drawn, stocks solid in his palms. 

Time to give the world some hell.

#

Ziegler frowned at Gabriel as he limped into Medical, but when he nodded curtly at her, she sniffed and inclined her head at the closest door. “He’s awake. But he should be getting some rest. Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Gabriel said shortly, and let himself into the room. The chamber was as sterile as the rest of Medical, nothing more than instruments and a raised bed, no window. Tubes and drips connected Jack to a med-deck and life support, but from a glance Gabriel knew it was better than it looked. Nothing permanent. Jack grinned wanly at him as he pulled up a chair, wreathing the unbroken fingers of Jack’s left hand with his. 

“Someone got off lightly.” Jack always got happy when he was high. 

“Yeah? You look like shit.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told.”

“You’re lucky that the kid was around to pull you out of all that rubble,” Gabriel growled. McCree had turned out to be a decent investment after all. 

“He’s not so bad. Great shot at close range.” 

“We’re more than halfway through the 21st Century. Bit too far gone for close range.”

“Tell that to Wilhelm.” Jack started to giggle, always a sign that he was far more loopy than he seemed. When Gabriel sighed and tried to get up, Jack squeezed his palm tightly. “Goin’ already?”

“Doc said you need some rest.” 

Jack scowled at him, so close to a pout. If Ziegler wasn’t poised to burst back in at any moment, Gabriel would’ve kissed it away. Lord knew he was tempted. “Why’re we back in Gibraltar?” Jack asked finally. 

“Because _someone_ got their punk-ass buried alive by a Bastion artillery unit, that’s why.”

“No, no, I mean,” Jack blinked owlishly at him. “It’s over? Already?”

“Yeah. God program’s been deactivated, and before you ask, most of the civvies made it.”

“ _Most_?”

“The kids’ mother made it, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“No, I…” Jack hesitated. “How many casualties? What the hell happened?”

“We lost five civvies and six soldiers. The main Overwatch strike team moved in after the ack-ack was taken out. Turned out the omnics were prepared for that. Moment our main wing got in close—”

“—they deployed the new Bastion units,” Jack concluded. “Yeah. I saw that much. Knew we had to take those out.”

“Didn’t need to half-kill yourself doing that,” Gabriel said lightly, though he looked away, so Jack couldn’t see his eyes. 

“Says the man who decided to attack the omnium singlehandedly.” Jack laughed, or tried to—he ended up coughing, though he grinned even as he tried to calm down. “Overwatch is a team effort, Gabe.” 

Gabriel shrugged. “So I’ve been told.” 

Jack chuckled again. “You ain’t ever gonna change, sweetheart. Don’t ever change.” 

“We’re too old for that kinda thing.” Gabriel squeezed Jack’s palm, so reassuringly warm, solid, _alive_. “Rest up, soldier.” 

“See you on the other side,” Jack said, already drowsy, and grabbed at Gabriel’s shoulders until he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. As Gabriel straightened up to go, Jack grabbed at his wrist, blinking slowly. “Is it all worth it?” 

Gabriel sat back down, carefully. Getting hurt always put Jack in a strange mood. “What is?” 

“War,” Jack said softly. “Fighting with the omnics. Losing Gods know how many civvies in the crossfire.” 

“Think that question’s above my pay grade,” Gabriel said carefully, raising his eyebrows. 

“No it ain’t,” Jack disagreed. “You’re the Strike-Commander of _Overwatch_. You’ve got the ear of the Secretary-General.”

“She’s got _my_ ear, you mean.” Gabriel corrected. “Doc says you need your sleep.” 

“I really thought it was gonna get better,” Jack said, though he did let go, reluctantly. “After we got rid of the God Program down in Juárez. Decommissioned all those Bastion units, opened up talks with the Numbani faction…” 

Gabriel shrugged. “Like I told Huang, there ain’t no common ground. They started off trying to destroy us, and that isn’t gonna let up, even if a bunch of them decide to play nice with humans in one country. That’s my professional opinion and it ain’t ever gonna budge. Get some rest, Jack.” 

“Yeah,” Jack said bleakly, then he managed a wry smile when Gabriel stared at him. “Good job back there, sir.” 

“Couldn’t let you guys get all the credit.” Gabriel kissed Jack on the forehead, then let himself out of the ward just as Ziegler seemed to be on her way back in. He nodded curtly at her, and took a slow shaky breath in the corridor once he was sure that he was alone. Alive. They’d made it out of it alive. 

His wristdeck beeped him. It was Huang. “Commander, there’s been an incident in Crimea. Requesting a general link-up.” 

War. It never changed. “Yeah. On my way.” Time to get back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent
> 
> Notes:  
> Ana probably shouldn’t be using US military slang, but I can’t find a list of Egyptian military slang, so I guess… Overwatch is probably a hodgepodge gig, and everyone’s slang eventually gets mixed together…?  
> Glossary of military slang: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Glossary_of_military_slang
> 
> Ack-ack/AA: Anti-aircraft  
> Cadidiot: Officer cadet, pejorative term.  
> CO: Commanding Officer  
> Brass: Superior/Higher Command  
> FOB: Forward Operating Base, usually a temporary military installation 
> 
> Yes, basically, in this AU where Gabriel is formally made Strike-Commander after the first Omnic Crisis, the war continues, no global peace treaty signed with omnics (except Numbani faction). His ruthlessness isn’t confined to just Blackwatch but to the general Overwatch op. The Omnic motives were inspired by Fallout 4.


End file.
